


She makes stars out of glass broken by dreams.

by viictoriasong



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:04:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viictoriasong/pseuds/viictoriasong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock leaves John and Mary's wedding in a state of sadness and distress. He does not expect Molly to drop by Baker Street to check up on him, nor the comfort that she provides him. (Takes place in the night following John and Mary's wedding!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	She makes stars out of glass broken by dreams.

Sherlock Holmes doesn’t often choose to sleep. When it happens, it usually occurs because his humanity catches up with him and his body begs for rest – or, as is the case today, when reality is a little too unbearable. 

He remembers the last time he felt this way. He was ten and had just witnessed a doctor putting his dog down. His body feels numb, but Sherlock knows it’s simply the calm before the storm. Emotions are stirring deep inside him and it takes all his strength to keep it contained. 

The wedding had gone by quite well. _He_ had been getting by well, until the sudden deduction of Mary’s pregnancy and _boom clap crash_ – Mrs. Hudson, chattering on about falling out with her best friend after her wedding, had come right back to the fore front of his mind. 

Sherlock can’t think ill of Mary. No, he likes her a lot, John loves her, and a child will only make the couple happier. It’s just that he finally has to stop denying the facts: this change in John’s life inevitably puts him firmly on the side line. 

He knows he’s not easy to be around, that he asks a lot of attention and that it would be wrong to continue in that fashion with John and Mary. 

It’s been a few hours since he silently slipped away from the wedding to return to Baker Street. Being alone is exactly what he needs right now, so he sits in his favourite chair and closes his eyes to drift into the pleasant darkness of sleep.

* * *

When he wakes, it’s to Molly Hooper turning on a lamp and softly shaking him. 

“Sherlock?” 

 _“_ Molly? _”_ he croaks back. Her presence is a surprise and for a moment, he thinks he’s  dreaming. 

“I came in with Mrs. Hudson. I noticed you leaving earlier and I wanted to check up on you.” She smiles softly. “I’m happy you’re here.” 

He notices concern in her eyes – _oh_. Of course. She must have imagined to find him here high as a kite, every drug on the planet in his system to keep the burning loss of John at bay. Granted, Sherlock was that sort of man when they first met, but he’s given up on substance abuse a long time ago. 

“I’m fine.” Sherlock gets up on shaky legs, sleep still in them, and pushes past her. “I should get to bed.” 

“Would you like some tea?” 

He makes a dismissive gesture. As if he cares about drinks right now. 

Still, his attitude doesn’t seem to discourage Molly, and when he’s settled nicely into bed she enters his room with a cup of tea. Silently, she places it on his bed side table. Her eyes take in the room – it’s the first time she’s been inside it, he thinks – and then settle back onto him. 

“Will you be alright? Is there anything else I can get you?” The words leave her mouth easily, but she clenches her hands in a way that makes it clear she’s still worrying. 

 _Ugh._ Sherlock’s never liked being pitied. “You don’t have to be here. I’m sure Tom would prefer you home, with him.” 

 _Where you belong, just as I belong here – alone._  

“Tom can take care of himself.”  Molly sits down on the edge of the bed beside Sherlock, her expression soft and warm. “I realise this must have been a difficult day for you, so I wanted to be here, as your friend, to give you any sort of support that you might need.” 

She means it – without conditions, without reserve, and it is in moments like this that Sherlock Holmes almost loathes Molly Hooper. He hates how she so easily strips him down to the human being that he, after all, truly is. 

But, this is also when he loves her the most. For seeing who he is and what he needs, for offering him the comfort and intimacy that he so desperately craves in life. 

Sherlock doesn’t know the proper response to these kind of words yet, so he simply sits and lavishes in the care pouring from her eyes. 

“Would you like me to stay?” Molly asks. “I know you prefer having someone around to talk to and all.” 

He nods. “John’s room has been cleared out, though, and I don’t think you should sleep on my terrible sofa so if it doesn’t bother you, you could –“ Sherlock gestures to the empty side of his bed, “sleep here.” 

“Alright!” Molly stands up, moving to take off her shoes and jacket. “I think we can figure something out.” 

When she slides underneath the covers beside him, Sherlock turns off the lamp on his nightstand. They lay still beside each other for a while, until he feels Molly’s hand take one of his and squeeze reassuringly. 

“This is not the end. You will be alright.” she says. 

In the darkness of night, Sherlock Holmes lets his tears fall and clutches Molly Hooper to him. In this moment, he admits that he might not be as alone as he likes to tell the world – and he could not be more grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> Eh. Writing this went pretty fluedly, until I had got to the last two hundreds words. Putting emotions onto paper properly continues to be a major challenga for me, I guess. Hope this was enjoyable!


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